


autumn crocus

by Notmycatsname



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Full Moon, Post-Hogwarts, Werewolf Luna Lovegood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmycatsname/pseuds/Notmycatsname
Summary: Ginny's always loved autumn
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	autumn crocus

Autumn has always been Ginny’s favorite season. As a child, she always loved the smell of the wheat being harvested next to the Burrow, warm and earthy, and the deep auburn color of the leaves of the crab-apple tree as they turn and fall. It marked the start of Hogwarts and visiting her friends again; cool mornings on the Quidditch pitch and long nights in front of the fire with a full glass of Butterbeer. She still loves them now, loves the brisk air, not quite cold enough to frost but enough to wake her up in the mornings, the days that feel right out of a story book spent picking apples with Luna.

It’s the longer nights now that bother Ginny, that make her feel guilty for this still being her favorite part of the years as the full moon remains in the sky longer and longer each month. Luna doesn’t seem to mind them, actually Ginny thinks Luna too seems most at home in the crisp autumn air, sitting in the branches of their tall elm tree, the two of them curled up around each other on their lumpy oversized armchair with the windows thrown open and the breeze gentle against their skin. 

These nights, though, don’t feel so nice. The nights where Ginny tries and fails to get a decent amount of rest because she’s too aware of the rustling in the forest nearby; is that the sound of a wolf howling or just the wind rattling the door? The nights when she abandons sleep altogether and settles for flying low circles around the house on her broom, until she can just see the sun on the horizon and then she sits on the front stoop and waits.

Ginny’s never been one for waiting, she’s never liked sitting back and biding her time while something else came to her. But full moon night’s are Luna’s time with the forest, her time with whatever else is lurking out there with her and Ginny knows she can’t intrude on that. Besides, waiting is a small thing to have to do while Luna’s body tears itself apart and sews itself back together again, rough even with the help of Wolfsbane. So she perches on the old wooden porch and pulls out dead weeds from the stepping stones leading to the house until she sees Luna come out from the forest.  
  


Each time she sees her like this, it’s like something from a dream. She emerges from between the towering pine trees, the tartan blanket they leave out for these mornings wrapped snugly around her. Ginny smiles as Luna gets closer and takes in her mud-smeared knees, something green stuck in the waves of her hair, a small bundle of purple flowers clutched tightly in one hand, the color out of place among the dull browns and burnt oranges. There’s a gash across the bridge of her nose, a smudge of blood and dirt that’s long since dried but it’s not very deep. Ginny raises from her seat and meets her at their fence, releasing the rusted latch with fingers that itch to grab hold of Luna. 

“Hello,” Luna mumbles as she presses her face into the space between Ginny’s neck and ear, her voice hoarse from the night behind her. Ginny wraps her up in a fierce embrace and feels her trembling a bit from the early-morning chill underneath the blanket. “You smell good.” Luna’s nose is still that of a wolf and her quick sniffing breaths tickle the Ginny’s skin. 

“So do you,” Ginny says around a kiss to Luna’s head, like old wood and wet soil. “You hungry? I picked up some croissants from that little bakery in town yesterday. I could make you some tea as well.”

“That sounds nice.” Luna pulls her face away from Ginny’s neck and smiles at her, her eyelids heavy and drooping, her body swaying a little in exhaustion. She backs away further and hands the bunch of flowers to Ginny. “They’re crocuses. There’s a patch on the eastern edge of the forest. I’d like to take you there. On a picnic.” She lets Ginny corral her into the house with a firm hand on the small of her back, through their red front door and into the little kitchen. Luna lets the blanket fall to the floor in favor of her fluffy fleece robe hanging on one of the kitchen chairs and sits down, resting her head in the crook of her folded arms on top of the table, eyes shut. 

Ginny flicks on the radio and hums along to some old Simon and Garfunkel song as she sets water on to boil and warms the croissants a bit with a wave of her wand. She places the flowers in a makeshift vase they repurposed from an old cider container and hops atop the counter as she waits for the kettle to warm up and takes in the sight before her, of Luna resting in their bright blue kitchen, beside that stupid Hollyhead Harpies calendar she bought Ginny as a joke and underneath the small pot of rosemary hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It’s a quiet morning, perhaps a little too quiet for Ginny but it feels right after the restless night. 

The shrill building whistle of the kettle pulls Ginny out of her thoughts and she bustles about the kitchen in a way that would surely make her mother proud. She sets two steaming cups of tea on the counter, a strong English Breakfast for herself and an earl grey for Luna, with a plate of croissants between them. Luna still seems to be sleeping, or at least she’s content to rest there for a while as Ginny fusses around her, shoving half a croissant in her mouth and scalding her tongue with too-hot tea. She blinks her eyes open slowly as Ginny stands behind her, combing out the leaves and twigs and moss from the tangles of her hair and letting them fall to the floor

“You’re making a mess,” Luna says softly, sitting up straighter and taking the mug of tea in two cold hands. Ginny only laughs at her and kicks her shoe forward to nudge Luna’s bare, mud covered feet. 

“Just decoration,” she mutters, satisfied with most of the clumps out of Luna’s hair. Ginny sits across from her, tangling their fingers together and studying the cut on Luna’s nose. “That the worst of the damage?”

Luna hums around a sip of tea. “I think so.” Her voice is always a little more distant the mornings after the full-moon, a little more dreamy. She touches her nose lightly, exploring fingers feeling for broken bones or splinters of wood. “It was a good night. It feels like a frost is coming and the wolf always looks forward to the snow.” Luna arches her back forward, wincing a little as bones crack and muscles stretch. 

Ginny thinks ahead to drinking hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire, of the heads of garlic they’ll plant in the garden to dig up in the spring, of a great white wolf bounding around in the snow in the dead of night. Luna smiles at her, a soft and sleepy expression that tears her out of own mind. Better than all of those thoughts are what she has played for today; a hot bath smelling of lavender, piling together gently under their heavy home-made quilt, and soft healing touches to fix up what the wolf left behind.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking a lot about werewolf Luna thanks to this
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> notmycatsname on tumblr


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